


The Embodiment of Love

by Marshmallows



Category: Granblue Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Celebrity, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bodyguard, Clothed Sex, Crossdressing, Domestic Fluff, Football, Lingerie, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-02 01:16:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16776694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marshmallows/pseuds/Marshmallows
Summary: The whole world knew his face. Lancelot: Captain of the White Dragons, a rising star, talented midfielder, and heart throb extraordinaire. Yet, there was only one man he showed everything.





	The Embodiment of Love

**Author's Note:**

> > Lancelot: (Suddenly coming forward enthusiastically) Can I just… say something? If I had to put Vane’s essence as a human being in one word, it’d be “a person of love.”  
> 
>> 
>> \- [Pash January 2018 interview](https://ryuuppai.tumblr.com/post/173458373024/gbf-the-four-knights-of-gbf-speak-their)
> 
>   
> For the GBF Secret Santa 2018 exchange! Took the Vane/Lancelot request alongside the celebrity/bodyguard & lingerie/high heels prompts, and went running with it. I actually don't know much about football, but hopefully there's not too many inaccuracies;; Gran only appears as a cameo, but he's aged up, as per the request. I hope you enjoy this and have a good holiday! 

It was a single second.

Their eyes connected. In a stadium of thousands, they found one another, and just for that small moment, Lancelot’s eyes were on him. Every eye and every camera lens was trained on the man who had brought his team victory – but Lancelot was looking right at him, bright eyed and beautiful.

He was giddy with excitement, his grin spreading across his face as he kissed his fist and thrust it into the air. Not a moment later, he was swept off his feet, the rest of the White Dragons hoisting him onto their shoulders in boisterous cheer. Their trophy glittered above Lancelot’s head, a star plucked right out of the sky, nestled between his hands. 

As he watched him from the sidelines, Vane felt something stirring in his chest that swallowed him whole, like the swell of a tide, like a balloon fit to burst. 

“Lan-chan!” Vane bellowed at the top of his lungs, but his lone voice was nothing compared to the roar of thousands of voices, all erupting into a chorus. 

“Lan-ce-lot! Lan-ce-lot!”

That had been Lancelot’s first game as captain of the White Dragons, and certainly not his last.

* * *

Lancelot’s gaze was piercing. He had always known his sharp, blue eyes, stark against the backdrop of his wild, dark hair. It was an image even more breathtaking splashed across a billboard: his parted lips, a glimpse of his snow white skin underneath a translucent shirt, all delivering a promise of a refreshing scent in a sleek bottle. 

Vane had received a sample once. He was merely passing by the stand in the department store when he was taken by curiosity. As blue as the waves that lapped against Lancelot’s face, the perfume had truly captured the very essence of the ocean. 

It had taken him years to become captain of the White Dragons, but time only evolved Lancelot further beyond his football career. He was many things: an angel, a talented midfielder known for his intensive training regime, frequently top 10 in various Sexiest Man of the Year polls; yet he always remained his childhood friend.

Quietly, Vane felt the box inside his pocket, and held it inside his palm.

He returned his gaze back down to earth, only to notice an old lady waiting by the traffic lights, bags in each hand, all overflowing with groceries. 

“Excuse me, miss,” Vane called as he approached, “Would you like some help?”

“Oh,” she said, “Well, aren’t you lovely?” 

She laughed as Vane took both her bags in one hand, and chatted avidly about her own grandson as he guided her across the road. They parted ways when she had insisted she’d be fine, and Vane turned to see the billboard man himself: blue eyes and raven curls, a grin as he held aloft the water bottle he had insisted he’d go back alone for. In contrast to the glamorous billboard, this Lancelot was dressed rather plainly: polo shirt and shorts, a duffel bag slung over his shoulder. Vane motioned for him to wait, and not waiting for the lights to change again, he sprinted across the road as soon as it was empty. 

“That was dangerous,” Lancelot said, a stern tone imbued into his voice.

Vane flashed him a victory sign, “I made it though, right?” 

“Between helping old ladies and protecting me, I’d like you to be more careful,” Lancelot said, smacking him lightly with his water bottle, “Let’s get going. Sorry to make you wait.”

“Roger that, Lan-chan!” Vane chirped, giving him a quick salute before he started to follow him.

Lancelot spun right round, “How many times-”

“‘Do I have to tell you not to call me that?’” Vane only offered a grin as Lancelot frowned. 

He couldn’t remember when and how that nickname had started, but somehow it had become a permanent part of his vocabulary. They had known each other since they were children, since the time they used to play football in school playgrounds and old alleyways. They had been neighbours even back then, and even though Lancelot was now playing football in stadiums thousands times bigger, they were still together.

“Vane, please…” Lancelot muttered, adjusting his bag strap over his shoulder, “Only in private…”

“Can’t help it though,” Vane said, shrugging.

Lancelot flicked up his gaze at him, “I don’t want you to be the target of anything again."

Despite the fame he had collected over the years, there had been a time when Lancelot was barely known, when he had played for the club that was the White Dragons’ precursor. The Black Dragons had been Feendrache’s pride and joy, dominating football leagues and taking home trophies like it was their given right, until the day they had vanished in an instant. Rumours dogged the sudden disappearance of their captain: rumours of rigging, rumours of corruption. He never did play again in a professional football stadium. 

Times were simpler back then, for all of them. Lancelot had been asked about his inspirations in a simple interview. Of course, his first instinct was to blurt out his captain’s name. His mistake was to then describe someone he called ‘the embodiment of love’. It remained an innocuous comment whilst Lancelot had remained unknown. 

However, as Lancelot picked up steam in his career, it didn’t take long for fans to dig his past up, and suddenly his Instagram filled with home made food was the source of many a speculation. There was a whirlwind of gossip, a jealous kidnapping attempt that also exposed the reason behind the Black Dragons’ collapse, and now Vane was permanently Lancelot’s shadow. 

That had all happened years ago, and yet Lancelot remained as ageless as he was in his early twenties. Even to this day, people were trying to figure out who he had meant, becoming the go-to term to describe whoever Lancelot was standing next to. Turned out the large, blond man he was always with was a popular target for rumours. It took a particularly stubborn insistence that they were merely bodyguard and client for the whispers to settle, and then they honed in on his fellow footballers instead. 

Times had gotten better since Lancelot had shed the Black Dragons’ legacy and earned his right as captain of the White Dragons, but Vane did miss when Lancelot’s love life wasn’t subject to such scrutiny. He had even taken to wearing a ring on his ring finger, but even that wasn’t enough to satiate those who wanted to know who his heart belonged to.

Vane fiddled with the box in his pocket.

“Huh… Been a while since I heard this,” Vane said, after a moment of silent marching, “Something bothering you, Lan-chan?” 

“Not at all,” Lancelot was quick to answer.

“I can see it all over your face though,” Vane said, leaning over to take a peek at him.

“No-” Lancelot spun on his heel again, only to be frozen in place by Vane poking him right in the centre of his brow. He sighed, and swatted his hand away, “Never mind that.”

“Don’t be nervous, Lan-chan…” Vane said, ending with a soft smile.

“I’m not…” Lancelot said, while avoiding his gaze, “Alright, maybe a little… We haven’t seen Siegfried-san in quite a while…”

“I kept in touch,” Vane chirped, with a quick flash of his phone, displaying all the text messages they had exchanged.

“You!” Lancelot cried, his eyes widening. 

“Lan-chan’s being really cute today,” Vane said with a song in his voice, dodging just as Lancelot made for his hand. 

“Don’t call me that, especially now!” Lancelot said, his face growing a lovely shade of bright red.

“But it’s only us!” Vane said, stopping right in the middle of the pavement and making those behind him grumble as they swerved round the pair.

Lancelot took a deep breath and started to count quietly in his head. Vane only watched quietly, until Lancelot’s eyes suddenly flung open, “I’m running.”

In a blink, Lancelot made true on his promise, his famous legs weaving past other pedestrians as Vane spluttered behind him, “Lan-chan, wait! I’m meant to be with you at all times!”

“Not if you can’t catch me!” Lancelot called behind him, his trainers pounding against concrete, a tight grip on his duffel bag.

“Lan-chan!” Vane whined, having to dodge everyone as he kept his eyes upon his target.

“Don’t call it out!” Lancelot yelped without a single skip in his beat.

“Lan-chan! Lan-chan!” Vane yelled instead.

Vane’s heart almost stopped when he turned a corner and suddenly Lancelot had vanished from sight. He feared the worst, wondering who had ripped him from the crowd, taken him in plain sight; when he felt a presence behind him, much too late.

“Boo!” 

The screech that erupted from Vane turned every single head, until Lancelot slapped his hand over his mouth and he flailed into his arms. He wheeled round, ready to retort at Lancelot’s grin, when he noticed a teenager linger when everyone else had returned back to their own lives. The realisation in her face soon turned into shock, and she was growing more wide eyed the longer she stared. 

“Lan-chan!” Vane hissed, bringing him in closer. 

“Wait. Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, you’re Lancelot! I can’t believe you’re here!” she gasped, every word tumbling over one another as she scurried up to them.

“Ah, sorry, miss, we need to get going,” Vane said, stepping in front of Lancelot to block her path.

“Just one quick selfie, please!” she pleaded in a gesture, shoving her phone right into Vane’s hand.

“ _Miss_ ,” Vane repeated. 

“It’s alright,” Lancelot said from behind him, a pat against his arm, and Vane watched him quietly as he made himself known.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” she said all in one breath, practically touching the ground as she bowed in gratitude. Lancelot helped her up, to which she looked like she was practically about to faint. Behind the lens, Vane noticed the tears in her eyes as they talked for a moment, and finally he let his guard down. 

“Here you go, miss,” Vane said softly as he passed her phone back to her, “Need me to take it again?”

“No, no! It’s perfect, thank you so, so much!” she said, a little hop in her step. She left as breathless as she was approaching them, and just like that, they were alone again. 

“It was my pleasure,” Lancelot had said, and then he turned to him, “Vane? What’s wrong?”

“Oh…” Vane looked up, rattled out of his thoughts, “Nothing!”

Lancelot took a step forward, “Vane…” 

“What time was it again?” Vane said quickly.

Lancelot stared at him before he flicked his wrist up to look at his watch. The horror on his face dawned in an instant, and before Vane could edge in another word, Lancelot was dragging him along by his wrist. 

With the additional running, they made it to the gym perfectly on time, even earlier than they had all agreed upon, in fact. That didn’t stop Lancelot from throwing on his gym clothes so fast that Vane had to grab him and readjust his collar before he was allowed to dart back out however. In this gym they had hired out for their reunion, they spotted a red haired man glowering next to the entrance, and his company, in contrast, who seemed much more cheerful than he was.

“Percy!” Vane shouted the moment he saw him, “Hey! Over here!” 

Immediately, he looked right through him and glared at Lancelot, “Keep your guard dog on a shorter leash.”

“Now, now, it’s been a while, hasn’t it?” Lancelot said, “Is Siegfried-san not with you two?”

“Late,” Percival snapped, “As always.”

“But he said to get warmed up anyway,” the youth next to him said, rocking on his heels.

“Well, let’s get to it, Percival and… Gran, was it?” Lancelot said, extending his hand, “I’m glad to finally meet the captain of Grancypher off the pitch.”

Gran took his hand firmly in his and they exchanged pleasantries as normal people would in the company of others. Vane glanced at Percival, leant against the wall, his arms firmly crossed. 

“Stop,” Percival said, without even a look at him.

“Didn’t do anything,” Vane quipped.

“Go back to your owner,” Percival said, and when he looked up, it was only at Lancelot, “Oi Lancelot, you forgot something.”

Without breaking conversation with Gran, Lancelot wrapped his arm around Vane’s waist, “Come along,” Lancelot said in the middle of his sentence, pulling him over as he steered them both away.

“Tch, why is he always like this?” Vane grumbled.

“I can hear you,” Percival glowered back.

“Hey! You acknowledged me!” Vane called over his shoulder.

“Vane…” came Lancelot’s voice beside him.

For a moment, they stared each other down, the mere sound of Lancelot’s voice drawing his attention back onto him. He watched the sternness in his face in silence, until Lancelot began to mimic Percival’s frown, and Vane had to tear his eyes away from his, snorting as Lancelot let slip a snicker.

“You two!” Percival barked.

He was just about to march right up to them, when there came another familiar voice. 

“Has everyone started already?”

“Siegfried-san!” Lancelot and Vane cheered in unison.

“Where have you been?” Percival snapped, immediately honing his attention onto the latecomer, “The time you waste isn’t yours alone.”

“My apologies,” Siegfried began, rubbing the back of his neck, “I-”

“That’s enough, get changed,” Percival said, marching him right into the changing room.

“Percival…” Gran said quietly after him, “Sorry guys, he’s usually not this bad.”

“Oh, we know-” Vane began, until Lancelot pinched his arm and he was left having to rub where he had been hurt, “Lan-chan…”

“Don’t worry,” Lancelot interjected, “It’s been a while since we’ve trained together, but his heart is usually in the right place.”

“You guys go way back, right?” Gran said, practically glowing, “I was a big fan of the Black Dragons when they were still around!”

Vane quickly stepped in front of Lancelot, “I’m gonna get warmed up! Let’s go, Lan-chan, Gran!”

The slight change in Gran’s face told him he understood. Vane wondered if he had ever asked Siegfried and Percival, and wondered what answers they would have given to an outsider in this conflict. 

Without a word, Lancelot knocked against Vane’s hand as he hurried on ahead of him. He smiled in response, watching the back of his head as he began to loosen up his joints, before he came up to him and offered to do some partner stretches together.

It had been years now, but scars never fully faded away, not when they had festered and had barely been patched up. The White Dragons had been active for years now, but none of them had forgotten their former club, broken in a mess of scandals and lies. They used to haunt Lancelot, clinging to his pretty face like he was a magnet for trouble.

His fame was well earned upon his ability, but there was no denying that Lancelot also made headlines for all the wrong reasons. Perhaps the worst one was when he was almost kidnapped. Isabella was famous in her own right as an ambitious politician, but her equally attractive face made them mere characters on a show. Newspapers were quick to focus on sexual allegations, anything that was titillating when their new stars were blessed with such beautiful faces. Vane had always been by Lancelot’s side, but that desire to protect him was only commodified with this incident. 

It had been years and Isabella was now behind bars, and yet, as Vane pressed against Lancelot’s back to aid his stretch, he never felt more human than underneath his hands.

“Sorry for the wait,” Siegfried said upon his return, Percival hot on his heels, “I hope you’re all ready?”

They had all been former teammates once. Vane was on the reserves, but he’d always watch their practices in absolute amazement. With the Black Dragons, Siegfried, Percival and Lancelot were becoming household names back in the day; and now Siegfried was retired, Percival played for Zinkenstill’s Grancypher, and Lancelot had rose to become captain of the Black Dragons’ phoenix club. 

That wasn’t to say that Gran was any slouch either. Becoming captain at 21 was no small feat when the talented Lancelot became captain at 27. Despite his youth, it seemed Percival hung onto his every word, and Vane watched as he and Gran kept up with each other’s pace in cardio workouts, as striker and captain in perfect harmony. 

“Still quit playing, right?” Siegfried said, planting himself down next to Vane resting on the bench.

Vane looked up, and broke into a grin when he realised who he had for company, “Siegfried-san! I still play… kinda. Lan-chan never stops practising, so we end up doing drills together.”

“Are you looking to come back?” Siegfried said, a casual lean forward as he settled in his seat. Perhaps Siegfried was famous for all the wrong reasons too: he played magnificently and disappeared just as suddenly as his surprise debut as captain of the Black Dragons. Unfortunately, unlike Lancelot who had time to develop out of scandals and become a true legend on the pitch, Siegfried had quickly retired upon his return. 

“Nah, don’t think I can make it to the pro leagues like Lan-chan has,” Vane replied.

“You never know until you try,” Siegfried said. 

“True…” Vane said, and he stole a glance at Lancelot, “But I’ve decided I’m going to protect Lan-chan. So I’m here now.”

“You showed real potential as a goalkeeper,” Siegfried said, “If you ever want to come back, know that I’ll always be ready to train you.”

Vane had to turn to look at him directly in the eyes, “That’s… really kind of you, Siegfried-san,” Vane said, feeling his cheeks ablaze, until he remembered, “But wait, aren’t you coach for Grancypher now?”

Siegfried only smiled, “Are you happy with the way things are?”

Vane scrunched up his face, “Huh? What d’ya mean?”

Siegfried only nodded in the opposite direction, and Vane followed his indication. For a moment, he watched as Lancelot and Gran stood together, squatted down, and then proceeded to do backflips one after the other. Against the sunlight streaming through the windows, Lancelot looked barely a year over Gran’s age, laughing and cheering.

“I wish you two well,” Siegfried said, and before Vane realised what had happened, he was jerked forward by a simple pat on his shoulder. He watched as Siegfried made his way over to the pair of captains, and then Lancelot was following behind Siegfried like a little duckling.

It had been years since they had last trained together, and even as Vane began to return to the treadmill, he couldn’t stop watching the pair, almost isolated in their own brilliant world. Lancelot was always impressive to watch on the pitch, his stamina reserves seemingly infinite as the esteemed playmaker of the team. Vane watched in awe when Lancelot began to dip ever so slightly in his drills, his teeth grit as he forced himself to keep going. Siegfried didn’t relent, had always known the boundaries that Lancelot would break, even as sweat trickled down Lancelot’s chin and splattered onto the gym floor.

Then, there was a sudden sound, someone clearing his throat. 

Vane tore his eyes away from the spectacle, only to grin when he noticed it was Percival.

“Oi, Percy! Wanna race?” Vane chirped. He hadn’t even gone further than a steep inclined walk, much less run himself.

“Not with you,” Percival said, beginning to walk as the treadmill started up.

“Percival!” came a voice on the next treadmill. It was Gran, mirroring Vane’s grin, “Wanna race?”

“Warm up first,” Percival said, “Don’t hurt yourself.” 

Vane nodded slowly, “Oh, I see how it is…” 

“What are you talking about?” Percival said, deigning him a glance. The grin on Vane’s face only grew. He leant over and caught Gran’s eye, and Percival was left frowning as he turned the other way, “Gran, don’t encourage him.”

Unfortunately for Percival, it appeared the trio were now locked in a race. He yelled at deaf ears as either side of him began to break into a run, scolded them as he followed suit, and soon enough, that side of the gym was filled with nothing but shouting and whooping. 

Their session together soon ended with pleasant goodbyes that didn’t seem to end, though Percival was a step ahead of the group as he fretted about making their chauffeur wait. Eventually, Lancelot and Vane were left on their own again, and they talked softly as the sun painted the streets a warm orange. Their bodies aching as they trawled back home, they granted themselves a treat, walking home side by side with a box of cake in hand. 

Part of him still felt like having such a large apartment was a dream while they remained neighbours. Vane remembered dirty old streets, playing football in alleyways, and now here he was, still with his childhood friend, living next to each other in a sleek, modern building. There existed a time when they were poor, when they had hand me downs and shared each other’s toys.

“Vane…” Lancelot said, his hand on his door handle, “We should race too sometime.”

“Huh?” Vane looked up from fishing in his backpack for keys. 

“I… want to see how much better you’ve become,” Lancelot said, his voice soft in the silence of the corridor. 

Vane stared at him for a moment, and then he blurted out, “Are you busy tonight?”

“Vane, you know my schedule…” Lancelot said, a bemused smile on his lips, “I can still eat dinner together however.”

Vane only grinned back, “Don’t fall asleep on the couch without a blanket.”

“Alright, I’ll remember,” Lancelot said, nodding.

“What meat?” Vane said, when he had found his keys, tossed them into the air and nonchalantly caught them.

Lancelot thought for a moment, “Perhaps… beef?”

“Mine or yours?” Vane said, inserting his key into his door.

“Mine later?” Lancelot said. 

“Alrighty,” Vane gave him a firm nod, and then quickly turned back to him, “Chilli con carne good with you?”

“I’m good with anything you make,” Lancelot was quick to answer.

“Lan-chan,” Vane rubbed the back of his neck, “That never helps me…”

Lancelot only giggled, “It’s true though.”

“Well, chilli it is then!” Vane said, grinning back at him.

Lancelot smiled in return, “I’m already looking forward to it.”

Vane pushed open his door, and with a quick wave, he went in, “In a bit.”

“In a bit,” he heard Lancelot repeat.

* * *

“Lan-chan…” Vane said, knocking against Lancelot’s door a few hours later, “Lan-chan?”

The sun had long since set, but Feendrache had a moderate climate and it remained warm on clear, spring nights such as these. Vane was balancing two plates he had merely carried over from next door, but there had yet to be a sound. He double checked his trousers’ pocket for his box, and then he made another attempt.

“I’m coming in!” 

Fully prepared, the key to Lancelot’s apartment was already in hand when he had knocked on, and he pushed open the door with his foot, only to be greeted with a familiar sight.

Lancelot was asleep on his couch, a multitude of notebooks sprawled out in front of him, a blanket folded neatly next to him. Vane set their dinner down on the kitchen table behind him after he had closed the door, and with barely a sound, he pulled the blanket from underneath Lancelot and draped it over his shoulders.

“Vane?” Lancelot mumbled without even opening his eyes. 

“Hey, sleepyhead,” Vane whispered, crouching down to his level.

“What time is it?” Lancelot mumbled, his head turning back into the pillow.

“Some time after 10,” Vane replied, “Brought some food for ya.”

“Thank you, Vane…” Lancelot said, though he made no movement to get up.

“C’mon, go wash your face,” Vane said, patting his cheek, “You’ve probably only had your cake. There’s barely any room on the table.”

“You really do know me so well…” Lancelot muttered.

“Lan-chan, you always say this,” Vane said, a smile creeping onto his face as Lancelot shook his head, even with his eyes shut.

“But it’s true,” Lancelot retorted.

“C’mon, get up,” Vane said, springing back up to his feet as he ruffled Lancelot’s hair.

Lancelot took this opportunity to latch onto his arm, and Vane knew to pull him up. Ever so gracefully, Lancelot toppled into Vane as he was extracted from his blanket, and they stood still for a moment, holding each other in silence.

“C’mon,” Vane whispered, patting Lancelot’s back.

Lancelot grumbled as he spun round on the spot and wandered into the bathroom. Vane thought of every photo shoot Lancelot had done as he watched him scratch his back, his hair looking very much like a bird’s nest. As he waited for him to be done, Vane preoccupied himself with cleaning up the mess Lancelot had made, stacking up every book he had strewn all over the place. 

“Do you want to borrow that?” came Lancelot’s voice as Vane flicked through one of his textbooks. It was a giant slab of a book on core exercises, and Lancelot had decorated its pages with a barrage of cat shaped sticky notes.

“Huh?” Vane said, looking up from his seat and then back to the book in his hands, “Oh, no, just looking at your choice of stationary.”

“I’ve almost ran out,” Lancelot said, crashing down next to him. In the comfort of his own home, Lancelot had changed out of his gym clothes and wrapped himself up in a light cardigan, but no matter how smart he looked, his hair remained wild. He ran a hand through it as if to demonstrate, his mess of raven curls sticking out even more despite having just been brushed.

“I’ll get you another set,” Vane said, flicking to the next page. The cat here had Lancelot’s scrawl across its back, a tiny note that referenced a page in another book. 

“You don’t have to,” Lancelot said softly, “Your only obligation is to protect me, Vane.”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t buy things for you,” Vane said, without looking up.

“You already do a lot, Vane,” Lancelot said, nudging into him before he stood up again, “Thank you for the food, as always.”

“Reminds me… How’s your room? I can go tidy it now while you eat,” Vane said, finally putting down the book and getting up when he heard Lancelot gather up cutlery. 

“I’d prefer the company,” Lancelot replied. 

“Well, if that’s what ya want. Hope it’s not too spicy,” Vane said, passing by Lancelot on his way to the fridge, “I’ll get some milk and cookies for you.”

“Tuck me into bed too please,” Lancelot said, resting his chin upon Vane’s shoulder.

“Bedtime story?” Vane said, barely looking into the fridge as he passed a bottle of milk to Lancelot. 

“Could always count on you, Vane,” Lancelot said happily, before plastering the cold bottle against Vane’s nape. It was the second time that day that Lancelot had made Vane scream, and he bolted before Vane could even turn around.

“Lan-chan!” Vane whined after his rapidly retreating form.

“Hurry, let’s eat before it gets cold!” Lancelot called out, pulling out Vane’ s chair for him. 

Vane certainly didn’t miss the wide grin on his face. He made his own pout obvious as he made his way over.

“Here, I’ll make it up to you,” Lancelot said, plucking out a red wine from a nearby wine rack. He triumphantly thudded it onto the table, making the cutlery bounce in retaliation.

“What? No, you don’t have to go that far,” Vane said, quickly shaking his hands.

“Then, I’ll drink with you,” Lancelot said simply, and he fetched matching glasses before he could stop him.

Vane looked at him and then the bottle of milk, as Lancelot filled his glass to the brim, “Uh…” 

“Tomorrow’s my rest day, right? I can let loose a bit, especially when we see Siegfried-san so rarely these days,” Lancelot intercepted as he offered him a smile, but when Vane only raised his eyebrows, Lancelot let out a giggle, “I promise I won’t get too drunk.”

Vane didn’t say anything, and instead remembered all those times that Lancelot had said this and done the exact opposite. His low tolerance for alcohol resulted in two things: he drank rarely, because when he drank, it wouldn’t take him long for him to either be a) challenging others to fights, or b) asleep. At least, Vane was used to taking care of him.

“Cheers,” they said, their glasses chiming together.

Turned out, through talking and Lancelot constantly topping him up, Vane was the one to pass over his limit, and by the time he realised where he was, he was curled up on the couch, nuzzled against Lancelot’s shoulder. They were talking about something, when Vane realised Lancelot was petting his hair gently, and Vane pulled him in at his waist. 

Lancelot immediately stopped mid-sentence. Their eyes met, and even in the haze of his mind, Lancelot was still a sight to see: beautiful eyes, beautiful hair, beautiful everything. He could see his soft smile as he leaned in, until he was so close he could only see his lips.

“Hey…” Lancelot said, “Were you serious about the bedtime story?” 

“Yeah, sure…” Vane murmured, before he paused to collect his thoughts, “You okay?”

“Yeah…” Lancelot whispered, “Just want you to stay a little while longer.” 

Vane murmured some sound of affirmation. He scrambled round for the blanket and threw it around their shoulders, and tucked in closer to Lancelot, “C’mere.” 

Lancelot sidled in, hugging Vane tight, “This is nostalgic,” Lancelot said, giggling, “Thank you, Vane. I mean it.”

“Don’t mention it,” Vane shuffled so that more of the blanket was over Lancelot, “Sorry I’m not as tiny any more though.”

“You used to be so small! You always clung to my shirt,” Lancelot said. Vane only let out a groan, and nudged into Lancelot’s neck; to which he promptly giggled at how it tickled, “We went everywhere together, didn’t we?” Lancelot continued, “I remember scuffing my knee and you cried your eyes out because you thought I was going to die.”

“Hey…” Vane grumbled, springing up to retort back in a whine, but he stopped when Lancelot turned to him, his eyes bright.

“But look at you now,” Lancelot whispered. He smiled, and Vane forgot everything he was about to say. 

“Lan-chan…” his box lay heavy in his pocket.

Try as he might, that was his last memory of the night, his memories lingering on Lancelot’s smile. He remembered talking late into the night, a comment on how it was past both their bedtimes, a wish about wanting to go camping and live under the stars again. He remembered the swell of a tide, his chest feeling fit to burst, and then he was swept away by everything that was Lancelot.

* * *

“Lan… chan…” 

At first, a mumble. Something like his own voice buried under gravel. Then, the first glimpse of a ceiling that he knew was not his own. He blinked, but it persisted, a relentless mirage. 

There was a dent in the white paint – that time Lancelot had accidentally kicked a ball too hard and pinged a can of deodorant right into space. The question wasn’t why he was kicking a ball indoors, but why Lancelot had let his mess intrude into the living room too. It was then that Vane enforced that he was on cleaning duty here too. He already practically lived at Lancelot’s, even as a child, perhaps even more when his parents passed away prematurely. 

Lancelot had always been there for him.

“Lan-chan!” Vane sprang right up, an act he greatly regretted when his head thudded in his hands.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” Lancelot said, looking up from his notes, a half eaten energy bar in hand, “I fed Mut this morning, don’t worry. He’s here, actually.”

At the announcement of his presence, there was a subsequent meow as Mut, his cat, popped his head up, looking like a bundle of snow upon Lancelot’s lap. It took several seconds for him to register that Lancelot was sat on the floor while he was occupying the couch. The floor certainly had more room for sprawling out his diagrams, but Vane pulled his face. 

“Lan-chan…?” Vane whispered.

“You fell asleep last night,” Lancelot said simply.

“No, no… Why are you down there…? What time is it?” Vane said, scrambling to sit as best he could with his headache.

“Only noon last time I checked,” Lancelot said, “I’m sure your head hurts a bit, so rest up. My bed’s free. We can go for an evening jog if you’re feeling better later.”

“Think I can do that,” Vane said, his hands against the couch.

He was still gathering his bearings when he noticed Lancelot place Mut elsewhere so he could stand. He stared at his outstretched hand for a while, before he accepted it into his. There was a sting of guilt as he toppled over Lancelot, but he was glad he didn’t knock him over. They stayed still as they held each other tight, Vane’s eyes dropping as he almost fell back to sleep. 

“Lan-chan…” Vane managed to say at last. 

“Yes?” Lancelot said into Vane’s chest.

Vane tore himself away from Lancelot so he could look into his face. He held him at arm’s length, forcing his eyes to stay open, “Did I say anything weird last night?”

“No…” Lancelot smiled, his gaze soft, “Nothing weird at all.”

“Okay, that’s good…” Vane said, drifting away into Lancelot’s room, “G’night.”

“Sleep tight,” Lancelot said, following along until he was able to shut the door behind Vane.

He remembered that conversation at least. His mind was still a mess as he sunk into the pillows of Lancelot’s bed. 

The next thing he knew was that something had jumped onto him, and Vane screamed for the third time in 48 hours. He bolted upright after his flailing granted him breath, and Mut landed softly against the covers, an innocent meow as an additional greeting. 

“Mut…” Vane mumbled, staring at him with disappointment. Mut only curled up where he had once stood, absolutely content with himself.

Vane sighed before looking round for the time, and realising that it was that late, decided that he needed to make the most of what remained of Lancelot’s rest day. He pulled himself out of the covers and, using the light of his phone, clambered over the mess on the floor and flicked on the lights. He sighed another time when he took in the state of Lancelot’s room, books strewn all the over the place and clothes stacked on top of each other. There was even a trail of them leading right up to his drawers, like a taunt that he knew what he was meant to do next.

With no other choice, for it was his forsworn destiny to look after him, Vane followed the breadcrumbs that Lancelot laid down, picking up each article of clothing into his arms until he reached the drawers. 

He almost screamed again, though this time he had the foresight to clap a hand over his mouth. He sat there in shock, wondering if he was still half asleep, but when he opened the drawers again, the contents hadn’t magically disappeared.

He’d seen Lancelot’s underwear before. Vane was his bodyguard-cum-unofficial maid after all. 

Braving another peek, he cracked open a sliver just to see what was inside. 

He wasn’t mistaken. He threw open the drawer and stared. 

Lace and frills and dainty pastel colours lay in arranged order, the only semblance of structure in this entire mess of a room.

It was lingerie. Lancelot had an entire drawer of lingerie. 

Before Vane could do anything else, he heard a meow and saw something move in the corner of his eye. Mut landed right into the drawer and curled himself up next to the baby blues, and Vane almost had a heart attack.

“M-Mut… No, don’t!” Vane hissed, trying his hardest to keep his normal volume down.

He dragged him away as quickly as he could, slamming shut the drawer before Mut could go back inside, and yet as much as he tried to, Vane couldn’t erase the image from his mind. He sat for a while, his back against Lancelot’s drawers, petting Mut over and over in silence.

When he was finally ready to show his face, Vane peeked out the door, Mut meowing in his arms.

He saw Lancelot’s silhouette against the balcony door, his head tilted up, gazing at the sky above. It was a picture as elegant as everything he did, and then Vane noticed Mut was halfway across the room, and he was no longer holding anything. He trotted right up to the balcony door and gave it a firm tap with his little paws.

The door slid open immediately, and there was Lancelot, his hair clipped haphazardly out of his face, but that only meant his eyes seemed so much brighter without anything to hide them. He laughed as Mut jumped right at him, catching him in his arms as he stepped back into the apartment. 

“Vane?” Lancelot said, spotting him hiding behind his own bedroom door.

“Oh, uh, good morning,” Vane said, even though the stars and the city lights glittering around Lancelot’s head meant that it was clearly night.

Lancelot smiled, and every other thought was already out of his head, “Morning,” Lancelot said, as he came closer, “Did Mut end up waking you? He wanted to sleep with you, so I let him in.”

“Oh, uh, Lan-chan…” Vane mumbled. Lancelot was dressed only in a jersey and shorts, his bare legs fully exposed, so Vane forced his eyes back up to his face. It didn’t really help, not when the question of his underwear burned inside his head, “Uh… What do you want… for dinner tonight?”

“My fridge is rather empty, unless we go to yours,” Lancelot said.

Vane tried to search his brain for any other memory than underwear, “It wasn’t that bad, was it?” 

“I only have eggs and milk,” Lancelot said, and before Vane could interject, he added, “…I don’t have any flour.”

Vane stared at him for a moment, and not because of the question that burned inside of him, “I can get both our groceries, I’m serious.”

“You should move in with me if you’re going to do that,” Lancelot said, ever so casually. This wasn’t Lancelot’s usual answer, and Vane stared, speechless, as Lancelot walked away to grab his keys. He was frozen so long that Lancelot had to look over his shoulder, Mut peeking at him at the same time like the traitor he was, “Are you coming?”

Vane scrambled after him, but when he tried to extract his own keys from his pockets, his heart almost leapt out of his throat as he knocked against the box that he had forgot was there. He held it in his palm, his mind running with a muddle of thoughts; when Lancelot moved round him, using his key for Vane’s apartment as he held Mut with his other arm. He beamed at him as he pushed open the door, and dishevelled and confused, Vane dragged himself back into his own apartment. 

Vane’s apartment was much neater than Lancelot’s, a classroom sized whiteboard next to the entrance, and folders on the shelves to keep all his notes in order. As soon as Lancelot had closed the door behind him, Mut leapt from his arms, his paws pattering against the squeaky clean floorboards as he made his way back to his bed.

Vane tapped the whiteboard as they passed it, “Since you’re here, can you double check your schedule for this week?”

“Roger that,” Lancelot said, giving him a quick salute. After a glance over, he tapped a highlighted square, “On this day here, can you wear a suit?”

“Huh?” Vane said, rubbing the back of his neck as he read his own writing, “During your photo shoot? I’m just your bodyguard though.”

“You’re more than that, Vane,” Lancelot said, turning to him.

Vane paused at the sight of Lancelot’s face, “Um… Well… If you’re sure. Uh, well, let’s see… You got me a suit recently. You mean that? It was… uh… kinda tight…”

“I got your measurements correct, didn’t I?” Lancelot said, with a smile.

“They’re right…” Vane said slowly, “It’s just a bit… form fitting?”

“Is that a problem?” Lancelot said, his smile not having budged an inch.

“No, well, suits are meant to be like that…” Vane found himself mumbling, his gaze dropping as he felt his cheeks redden, “But it’s kinda… embarrassing…”

“Go change into it now.”

“Huh?” Vane looked up, “But I haven’t showered since yesterday.”

“Go, go!” Lancelot said, manoeuvring round to push him towards his room.

“I don’t wanna ruin it,” Vane whined over his shoulder.

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll buy you another!” Lancelot said, with another shove towards his own room.

“Lan-chan! Don’t!” Vane said, spinning round to face him just before his door.

“Get in there!” and Lancelot quickly pushed him in and shut his own bedroom door behind him.

Sometimes Vane didn’t know how he got into a lot of his situations. Sometimes he simply knew it all started with Lancelot. He stared at the suit hung outside his wardrobe as if wishing would make it disappear, but alas, Lancelot would simply push him back into the room if he ever dared to emerge undressed. 

It was tailored exceptionally well and flattered every muscle of his entire body, but he was so used to blending in and merely wearing a shirt or a hoodie that he felt strange even looking at his reflection. It didn’t feel particularly right to wear something so expensive, like every movement might accidentally ruin it and he wouldn’t feel right to simply stitch it back up. 

Lancelot was in the middle of a stretch when he spotted Vane poking his head out. Before Vane could retreat back into his shell, Lancelot had bounded over to his door and slipped right into his room, every ounce of mischief clear in his grin.

“It’s perfect!” Lancelot cried, and he grabbed his hand and pulled him over to his own mirror.

“Lan-chan…” Vane mumbled, already completely red in the face without realising how much smaller Lancelot’s hand was on top of his. Lancelot pushed him in front, pointing out every angle that looked good, which to him, seemed to be every angle. They had stared so long that Vane was forced to admit that the person in the mirror did actually look good.

“You look amazing in blue,” Lancelot said, and after a final turn of him, he looked away from the mirror and into his face, “May I take a photo with you?”

Vane could only stare, “I’m… I’m usually not the guy being asked.”

“That’s why I’m asking you,” Lancelot said, before poking out of Vane’s frame to look at himself in the mirror, “Though I’m still dressed like this. Can I borrow something please?”

“Uh, take my hoodie over there, but it’s… uh…” Vane began to say, until Lancelot actually slipped into it and everything in his head, save for a single syllable, flew out. 

A hand flew to his face as Vane attempted to hide his blush. He was meant to warn of how oversized it would be on him, but it should have been clear to himself when he looked so swallowed up in it. He could barely see Lancelot’s shorts. It wasn’t a good time to be acutely aware of how toned his legs were. It certainly didn’t help when Lancelot took the clips out of his hair, running a hand through his locks with all the grace of a swan.

“Here…” Vane mustered out as he pushed a brush his way. He didn’t expect that Lancelot would cup his hand over his, and Vane yelped, the brush clattering to the floor, “Sorry, I’ll…”

“Vane,” Lancelot said softly as he bent down with him. 

“Lan… chan…?” Vane said, his eyes wide as he forced himself not to look at Lancelot’s legs.

They stared at each other in silence, Vane panicking as he realised he was staring at his lips, until Lancelot broke into a smile, “Never mind,” he said at last, and he straightened up, “Let’s order take out instead, you must be tired.”

“I can still cook…” Vane said quietly, still on the floor beside his brush.

“It wouldn’t be fair on you,” Lancelot said, fishing out his phone from his shorts’ pocket. Rolling his hoodie’s sleeves back, he opened the door back up, “Don’t worry, I’ll go order something now.”

Lancelot left just as quickly as that whole experience happened, and Vane was left numb as he stared at where he used to be. They never did get changed, Vane sitting around in a suit on a Sunday as Lancelot lounged in his hoodie that was much too big for him. It was certainly odd to fetch pizza in a tailored suit, even odder as he tried his best to eat with Lancelot while trying not to look at him. When Lancelot left in the evening to go back next door, he was still wearing Vane’s hoodie like it was now his, and Vane, his poor brain fried over the course of the weekend, didn’t say a thing.

* * *

Grancypher being in town was the only reason why their entire weekend was free. Usually Lancelot trained even on Saturday, with Sunday being the team’s rest day, so everything was back to normal when Vane woke up in his own bed. He stared at the box on his bedside table as he got himself dressed, knowing there’d be no time in the week for him to bring it up.

Though he had to correct himself later – almost everything was back to normal, because Lancelot was definitely acting odder than usual. They made their way to the pitch like they normally would, but Vane was in charge of knowing everything about Lancelot, and Lancelot was not maintaining his professional distance. He’d knock into his hand, definitely too many times for it to be an accident, and Vane would freeze in the middle of talking and stare at him. Lancelot would only smile back, and Vane’s mind would short circuit whenever he did that.

There was barely any time in the day for them to settle down and talk about anything alone. Lancelot was captain and leader of the entire team. Even his face changed when he was on the pitch with the rest of the White Dragons, a fierce determination burning behind those blue eyes of his.

“Alright, everyone. As you all know, I met Siegfried-san this weekend, and we need to work on quite a number of exercises,” Lancelot said, his entire team silent as they listened to his every word, “Every moment of every day counts. Our first match lies on the horizon. With all of us working together, I know that we’ll bring home this year’s championship too. We’ve fallen to the very bottom of this pit, and we’ve climbed all the way back up to the very top of this peak. I know that we’re a club that can overcome anything, so I want you all to prove it. Show me everything you have! The White Dragons will rise again!”

“The White Dragons will rise again!” everyone echoed Lancelot’s words in a triumphant cheer, and then they all scattered across the pitch.

Even though it had been years since Vane had even worn a football kit, he glanced at the goal first and then settled into watching Lancelot help set up the equipment, patting everyone on the back as he passed them and greeting them individually.

After peeling away the scandals and the tarnished reputation of the Black Dragons, there was no denying that Lancelot was exceptional. He squeezed every drop of energy out of his body and dedicated it to training, until he learned to become ambidextrous, until he was known more for being good in the air than a victim of circumstances, a repertoire of bicycle kicks that had worn its way into history and, more importantly, the hearts of his fans. He was the embodiment of hard work, the muscles in his legs sculpted by his own hand. 

Vane cleared his throat as he watched him from the sidelines, and he pulled his gaze back up to his face. It didn’t really help, not when his face shone with sweat, and despite all the work he was putting his body through, the laughter in his face shone in his eyes. Everything about him was wonderful to watch, and Vane cupped his reddened face in his hands.

A whistle pierced the air to signal a break, and Lancelot plopped himself down next to Vane on the bench. After a quick swig of his water bottle and wiping his face with a soft towel, he turned to Vane, his breath dying down.

“Sorry about this. We’ll have more time together on my rest day,” Lancelot said.

“Huh? It’s fine. Isn’t it always like this?” Vane said, shrugging. 

Lancelot only smiled, and Vane watched as he tucked his hair behind his ear. It meant he didn’t realise that Lancelot’s leg was suddenly touching his, and he moved his own leg aside a second too late. 

The curious thing was that Lancelot chased after him, closing their distance and knocking against his leg right in front of his eyes. Vane paused for a second, frowning as he moved his leg once again, but when Lancelot merely repeated himself, Vane stared right into his face. There was nothing to read in Lancelot’s bright smile, and Vane felt his eyebrows furrowing.

“Well… I’m going back,” Lancelot chirped, and he gave Vane’s knee a pat as he used it to push himself to his feet.

“Huh…” was all Vane said to himself as he watched him return to his teammates. They huddled round him, and he was already back to his other face, noble and handsome, like a knight from another time. It was Vane – who had grown up with him, seen him at his worse, seen him at his best – who was the only one privy to a side he kept away from the public eye, and it lingered with him, like the warmth of his body against his.

* * *

Training weeks always passed by in a blink of an eye. They’d set up cones one day for dribbling practice, and then a whistle would wind down their last practice match of the week. It was already Saturday again, and Lancelot had the morning to finish a photo shoot in another town, before he got right back into practice with the rest of the club.

It was time to wear his suit in public, and Vane tugged at his tie so much that Lancelot had first cautioned, and then threatened – all with a smile – that he’d tie his hands with it instead. When Vane replied that it would be harder for him to do his job, Lancelot’s smile only widened.

“In another world, I wonder if you’d be by my side as vice captain instead, and you’d be modelling too,” Lancelot said, as they sat together in the back of the car. 

“I’m not cut out for that kinda stuff…” Vane mumbled, once he had regained his voice.

Lancelot was modelling a jewellery line this time, a band of silver twinkling on his finger as he stood on set with another model, just as resplendent and ethereal as he was. As he kept his original ring safe, Vane watched him behind the camera, turning this way and that, absolutely radiant underneath spotlights. It was a change from his first photo shoot where Lancelot had said he felt like a fish out of water, but it was just like him to adapt all the same. It was all to project his image into the world, an idea from their manager, Carl: a friendly, round teddy bear of a man. Lancelot was to be charming and down to earth, and yet he remained a star: unobtainable, out of reach. At least it meant that Isabella haunted him less.

“Excuse me, Lancelot. Please look this way!”

It was then that a smile caught him off guard. Lancelot was staring straight at him, even though his arm was meant to be around his partner’s waist. He lingered his gaze on him: a smile, a tease. After an apology, he turned the proper way, and Vane was left wondering what had just happened.

They were alone together after the photo shoot, a little time to spare before their chauffeur picked them back up. Vane hadn’t thought it appropriate to bring up anything during their dinners together, but watching Lancelot ahead of him, he wondered what had made him act so strangely this entire week.

Just as Lancelot stopped to admire a bakery’s wares in their window, Vane scanned the area, remembering the town plans he had to study every time he went somewhere new. There was a time when he had always gotten lost, falling prey to a boundless confidence that believed he knew where he was going, but now that he was responsible for someone else, especially Lancelot, he had a duty to always be alert. Lancelot always kept a city map on him, however. 

He checked off every shop on the street back to their chauffeur, until his eyes lingered on one store in particular. It was an underwear chain store, emblazoned in hot pink and black, with mannequins in the store front, all in bold poses, all decked out in lacy lingerie. 

“Do you want to go in?”

Vane jumped, and cursed his face for flooding with warmth, “W-What?”

“You look like you want to go in,” Lancelot continued, a smile on his face. 

“N-No, I don’t,” Vane mumbled, covering his cheeks with his hands.

“Let’s go, Vane,” Lancelot said, already a step ahead.

“Lan-chan, wait!” Vane hissed.

“How come?” Lancelot said, looking over his shoulder with all the innocence he could muster.

“You know why,” Vane muttered. He stared him down, and sighed when he realised Lancelot wasn’t budging, “At least, wear this.”

Lancelot was obedient as Vane hooked a face mask around his ears, though he did whine when Vane didn’t adjust his hair back too, so he pouted as he brushed it down to cover his ears again. The mask didn’t cover his telltale curls and his beautiful blue eyes, but at least it was better than waltzing into an adult shop with barely anything to hide his face. He already knew this was going to be trouble, but Lancelot was pulling him along and he could hardly say anything to deter him once his mind had been made up.

If he felt strange in his suit in public, he felt like he was being ogled in a zoo when he noticed heads turn their way. Lancelot casually led the way into the basement, marching past rows of bras just to stop before a table of frilly bottoms. Vane felt like he was sweating as he kept a careful watch on their surroundings, trying desperately hard to not notice Lancelot inspecting everything. 

“Excuse me,” a saleswoman said cheerfully, as she walked up to him, “Would you like any help?”

“Oh. Yes please,” Lancelot said, peeking out from behind Vane’s frame, “Do you have any larger sizes?”

“Shopping for your partner?” she said. 

Lancelot laughed behind his mask, “No comment.”

Another saleswoman popped up from behind her, her heels clicking against the floor as she marched up to her colleague, “Oh my gosh, don’t you know who he is?” she spun her on the spot to talk with their backs turned, but her whispers were still incredibly loud, “He’s Lancelot!”

“Who?”

“He’s in, like, so many ads! He plays football!”

“I don’t watch football,” the first saleswoman said with a shrug.

“Neither do I, but just look at him!” the other saleswoman hissed. Finally, they straightened up from their impromptu strategy meeting and grinned nervously.

“You like yellow, right? Or maybe orange?” Lancelot was mumbling loudly to himself, right on the other side of him, “Oh, but your skin tone…”

Only when the saleswomen yelped in unison did Vane notice that Lancelot was holding a pair of knickers against his ass. Vane immediately flushed red as he spun on the spot, grabbing Lancelot’s wrist before he remembered the consequences. He quickly released his grip, but that only gave Lancelot another chance to show off another pair at him. He inclined his head, holding them up for him to choose.

“Lan-chan…” Vane whispered urgently.

“‘Lan… chan…’” he heard the saleswomen repeat in hushed tones.

“Please don’t say that again…” Lancelot said, his eyes showing a dangerous glint. 

The saleswomen could only quietly wilt, “Okay…” 

“Thank you,” Lancelot said brightly, before turning back to Vane, “Do you prefer this one with the ribbons or this one with flowers?”

“I, uh…” Vane said, absolutely dumbstruck. He couldn’t see the lower half of his face, but he knew, from the glint in his eyes, that Lancelot was unashamedly hiding his grin behind his mask.

“How about this thong?” Lancelot said, holding up a string of lace that would barely cover anything, “There’s a 3 for 2 sale.”

“Lan-chan…” Vane whispered.

Lancelot ducked round Vane’s frame to address the saleswomen again, “Excuse me, can I have a larger size of this thong please?”

“Lan-chan!” Vane yelped as the saleswomen hurried to fulfil his request.

Giving him the barest cover of anonymity was clearly the wrong idea when Lancelot truly thought he could march up to the adult section and begin to nonchalantly inspect bottles of lubrication. Vane tried his best to cover him as he pulled his mask down to smell the samples, but he would still tap on his shoulder and nudge the bottles towards his nose.

“Do you like this cherry, or this caramel more?” Lancelot said, like they were picking up cake.

“Uh…” Vane paused, “Cherry?”

“Got it,” Lancelot said, and he placed it into a basket that he didn’t even realise he had picked up.

“Lan-chan… You shouldn’t buy this stuff in public…” Vane said, trying to block out Lancelot from view, even though he was so conspicuous in such a fancy suit.

“It’s fine as long as you’re here, right?” Lancelot said, and Vane stared as Lancelot tugged down his mask to flash him a smile.

Vane only heard static in his head as he watched Lancelot at the till. He had long forgotten about his mask when everyone in the shop had already recognised him.

“Can I have this stamped please?” Lancelot said, pulling out a loyalty card from his wallet. 

“Certainly!” the woman behind the till said brightly, “Oh, uh, can I… Can I have your autograph please?”

“Of course,” Lancelot said, “What’s your name, and where would you like it?”

Vane’s mind was still empty as they emerged back into the street, a bag upon his arm, the store name right across the front, filled with underwear on a cushion of tissue paper and faux rose petals. He stared at Lancelot as he waved him goodbye, whose smile remained stuck on his face all the way through practice and the journey back home.

“I hope you enjoy them, Vane,” Lancelot said, before he ducked into his apartment, “Come by later after you’ve tried them on,” not a second later, he popped his head back out, a grin on his face, “Stay in your suit.”

Vane stared into space when he collapsed onto the couch back home, and he was left unable to do anything but pet Mut in dumbstruck silence.

* * *

Mut had long escaped his clutches when he realised he was hungry. It was late at night, the time when they usually ate dinner together, and Vane was trying to find excuses to pretend he was sick. It wouldn’t work however, because he already knew Lancelot would break down the door in worry, or Mut would just invite him in, whichever happened first. 

Several moments later, he was still standing outside Lancelot’s door, trying to think about what on earth he could say. It was the evening before his rest day, so they had now and the next day all to themselves. It was plenty of time to have a long talk about this entire week, but that didn’t mean Vane was emotionally prepared for anything. He had never even asked him about his own lingerie, let alone the lingerie he had brought for him, right in front of his eyes.

Of course, it was Mut who scratched against the door, while his hand hovered inches away before the wood. He meowed at him as Vane stared down into his little eyes in utter betrayal, but it was too late. He heard Lancelot’s voice.

“Just a moment!” Lancelot called before he opened the door, a jumper thrown on so haphazardly that his hair was still caught in the neckline – but despite how dishevelled he looked, his entire face lit up with a smile, “Vane! Come in, come in.”

Every thought in his head vanished as Lancelot pulled him into his apartment, his hand small over his. When he went to lock the door behind him, Vane was also able to finally recognise what he was wearing. It was his jumper, poached from some time he currently didn’t remember, and a size too big for him. 

“Mut! Good evening, are you hungry?” Lancelot said, scooping up Mut into his arms. Mut purred in response, because it was just like his own cat to be more obedient in Lancelot’s arms than in his own. He purred all the way into the kitchen, where Lancelot closed the door behind him, “He has lots of food in there. We should be good for the night.”

Vane’s first thought was wondering if Lancelot had more cat food than human food in his kitchen, but it all flew out of his head when Lancelot wrapped his arms around him. Suddenly, he was experiencing odd thoughts, such as thinking about how warm and soft Lancelot was, dressed in his jumper, and how much he smelled like shampoo.

“Lan… chan…” Vane said, his voice a mere whisper as Lancelot pushed him down onto the couch.

“Vane,” Lancelot said, sitting up to nudge against his forehead, “Is something wrong?”

“Nothing… Nothing at all,” Vane said, his voice tiny.

“I can see it all over your face though,” Lancelot smiled, before cradling his face in his hands and sitting up in his lap, “Vane… Something’s bothering you.”

“Lan-chan… Well… Um…” Vane tried to say, but unable to produce the words, he motioned around his shoulder instead.

“Ah.”

Vane’s jumper was a size too big for Lancelot. It was currently sliding off his shoulder, where a strap of blue lace lay innocently in plain sight. They stared at each other in a stalemate, waiting for the other to move first, neither of them willing to break their silent truce. It was Vane who couldn’t hold out any longer, who quietly reached out and readjusted his jumper back over his shoulder, and who yelped when Lancelot clapped his hand onto his.

“Would you have preferred black instead?” Lancelot said, turning to him, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“…Huh?” Vane stared right up at him, absolutely bewildered.

“I wanted to surprise you…” Lancelot said, his other hand moving to stroke Vane’s cheek. 

“What?” Vane could only say. 

“Close your eyes,” Lancelot said, his hand falling down his chin and onto his tie. In one smooth tug, Lancelot had torn it off his neck, and Vane swallowed hard as Lancelot covered his eyes with it and plunged him into darkness, “Don’t open them or move this blindfold until I come back, alright?”

“Okay…” Vane managed weakly, as Lancelot took his weight off his lap.

Unable to see, Vane could only rely on his ears, listening to Lancelot’s feet patter against the floorboards, and then, the sound of a door opening and closing. Moments ticked by as he fidgeted upon the couch, but he had given his word and could do nothing in response. He thought about everything that had led up to this situation: the drinking, the lingerie, the suit, – the box. He realised with a start that it wasn’t in his trousers’ pocket, and he lamented about needing to go another week without saying a thing.

There was a new sound: the door opening again, and he perked up, his head turning towards the source. It was then that he heard the steady click of heels against floorboards, his brow furrowing in confusion, until they stopped directly in front of him, and he was able to smell the delicate scent of a fruity shower gel.

“Lan-chan?” Vane said, before a finger was pressed against his lips. 

He swallowed as he was pushed into the back of the couch, the cushions pressed against him as he felt Lancelot climb onto his lap. When he felt Lancelot pull him into his arms, he had expected the fuzziness of his jumper, not the silky smooth touch of whatever was now against his face.

Vane’s hands flitted to his blindfold, but Lancelot caught him before he could even reach. 

“Vane…” Lancelot said, lacing their fingers together, “I know we keep our relationship secret… But I want to treat you… for last week.”

Before Vane could open his mouth, Lancelot guided his hands, pulling them towards him and placed them on his body instead. 

Lace.

Wherever his fingers could touch, Vane would feel lace contrasting the occasional hint of skin. He followed the curve of Lancelot’s ass, down his thighs and calves, his fingertips running against delicate lace and firm, solid muscle. He could feel the rise and fall of Lancelot’s chest as he breathed harder, a moan, a gasp, as his hands ran up his body, as he held his hips. 

“I’m… a bit embarrassed…” Lancelot murmured, “No one’s seen me like this…”

“I want to see you,” Vane said, without a second thought.

“Vane…” Lancelot whined back, pressing further into him and forcing Vane to swallow hard.

“Lan-chan…” Vane said, quickly licking his lips as his mouth went dry, “Last week… What did I say?”

“I… had a feeling you wouldn’t remember…” Lancelot replied, “It wasn’t anything strange… It was actually rather sweet…”

“Lan-chan…” was all Vane could murmur.

Lancelot remained still, and Vane listened to his heartbeat, until he could no longer handle his heat and he had to wiggle out of Lancelot’s hold, his lips brushing against his chest. He nudged his face further across, but without his sight to guide him, he could only rely on his mouth, a trail of warm and wet kisses that caused Lancelot to squirm, and moan when Vane found what he was looking for. He sucked and licked against the nub until his nipple was erect and Lancelot loosened his grip as a result, but Vane continued, massaging his hands over his hips as Lancelot began to whine.

For a moment, when Vane could finally breathe, he thought he was freed, but Lancelot had only pulled back so he could push his chin up and claim his mouth for his own. He moaned into him as his hands clutched his back, forcing himself to breathe in the seconds that Lancelot had to as well. It had a while since they had last touched, and Lancelot communicated it well, leaving Vane barely a moment to recover before his tongue had parted his lips again.

“Lan-chan,” Vane gulped when he had a moment, “Please…”

“Vane…” Lancelot whispered against his lips, before he kissed him again.

Vane swallowed, “Lan-chan…”

With no other choice, Vane clamped onto his hips, and in one powerful movement, Vane had toppled him over, but not before he had held the back of his head to keep him from bumping into the couch.

He could hear their shortened breaths, audible as they stopped to recover, and then Lancelot pulled him back in, kissing him slowly as his hands stroked his hair, using that moment to untie his blindfold. 

It had fallen, or Lancelot had tossed it aside – Vane wasn’t sure which – but as light seeped back into his eyes, he squinted and blinked, until his vision began to focus on Lancelot underneath him. He took in the sight of his face: his blue eyes watching him, his cheeks growing pink, his hair spread out against the couch.

“Lan-chan,” Vane mumbled.

Vane darted in to kiss his cheek, his chin, his neck; just before he peeked downwards, his eyes following the line of Lancelot’s body wrapped in a translucent blue babydoll, a glimpse of his abdominal muscles before the peek of his skin paused at his lacy underwear, and continued onto his thighs, a respite before the rest of his matching nylon stockings, held up by a suspender belt. He returned his gaze back up to Lancelot’s face, in time to see him absolutely red in contrast.

Lancelot pressed his lips together, “If it’s strange, I can take it off…”

“No!” Vane spluttered, and he felt warmth flood into his cheeks too, his voice trailing off, “No… I mean…”

“Vane?” Lancelot whispered.

“You look good in anything you wear,” Vane said.

“Vane…” Lancelot mumbled back. 

“I love you…” Vane said, “Lancelot.” 

“Vane…” Lancelot covered his face with his hands, until there was nothing left of it but reddened cheeks, “Vane, that’s cheating.”

“Cute…” Vane whispered, to which Lancelot made a noise of protest as Vane kissed his hands and lingered against his warmth.

Vane did glance at his lips, just for a second; but without enough room, Vane nuzzled against his neck instead, planted a kiss here and there in retaliation. Lancelot moaned in response, and Vane ran a hand up his stomach, underneath his babydoll, his thumb catching his nipple and causing Lancelot to shudder. He was so focused on Lancelot’s voice that he barely noticed when he had revealed himself, a welcome surprise when their eyes met, and Lancelot pulled him in to kiss. With his lips against his, Vane deigned it appropriate to squeeze his nipple between thumb and forefinger, earning him a prompt yelp into a mouth, and Vane’s laughter in response. Lancelot would only pull against his bottom lip however, coming back in more aggressively, until every moan and sigh was drowned out into his mouth.

“Bedroom,” Lancelot said quickly in a pause for air, pushing Vane up.

Considering he lingered against his lips without wanting to move, Vane thought it’d be polite of him to extend his hand for Lancelot. It was only when a wide grin emerged on his face did he realise what mischief he had invoked. Lancelot placed his hand delicately in his, and Vane pulled him to his full height, only to be a little disorientated when he had to tilt his head up to look at Lancelot’s face. There had always just been a 3cm height difference between them, almost negligible in fact, and Lancelot took full advantage of his newfound height, stepping in with a smirk on his face, draping his arms over his shoulders.

He leaned in close, his breath tickling his ear, pushing his crotch against his, “Cute?” Lancelot repeated, in a tone that reminded Vane that Lancelot’s voice was deeper than his.

Vane breathed in deep, his hands barely grazing Lancelot’s waist before he had darted out of his grasp, a grin on his face as he pulled his hand along, towards his bedroom. Then, he turned round and Vane caught an entire eyeful of his ass. Vane was forced to suppress a groan, a hand flitting to his reddened face. He barely registered that Lancelot was walking pretty well in heels, but Vane was never surprised when Lancelot was good at anything he did.

The second Vane had entered his room, Lancelot locked the door behind him, impatient to push his weight against him. 

“Lan-chan, wait,” Vane said softly, taking Lancelot’s face in his hands, “Can I take a better look at you?”

“Vane…” Lancelot mumbled, barely audible, stealing a quick glance at Vane’s lips before he nodded. 

He stayed still as he let Vane look, and Vane took his time, his eyes scanning every inch of Lancelot’s body, noting the way the babydoll hugged his waist, the colour of his nipples in contrast to his snow white skin underneath the blue nylon. It was only through his fingertips that he realised Lancelot was holding himself back, a tremble, a jolt that hid a suppressed moan, as Vane glanced his touch against his stockings held up by a suspender belt, and then back up to hold a burning face.

“You really are so beautiful,” Vane whispered, his thumbs stroking the blush upon Lancelot’s cheeks. 

Vane only had a moment to prepare himself, as Lancelot took a deep breath, just before he snatched his hand, dragged him towards the bed and thrown him on top of it, the bed creaking in protest at the sudden weight. Vane didn’t even have time to adjust himself, not when Lancelot immediately climbed over his body.

“Do you know how hard it was to keep my hands off you today?” Lancelot said, leaning in so close that his hair fell down his face and tickled Vane’s own cheeks.

“Lan-” Vane tried to say, when Lancelot pushed a fingertip against his lips.

“I’d like to talk more, but…” Lancelot whispered, his eyes scanning Vane’s face, “I’m afraid you’re making things rather hard for me.”

“Lan-chan…” Lancelot let Vane say, before he pushed his lips onto his.

Lancelot’s kisses were aggressive and strong, barely a pause to breathe for Vane to even think; so Vane relied on old proven tactics, gripping on to his hips again and tossing him over in one smooth motion. Lancelot stared up at him from underneath, dazed for barely a second, when a smile grew upon his face.

“Show me everything you have,” Lancelot whispered. 

He giggled brightly as Vane darted in to kiss against his neck, which only meant that wasn’t enough. He wanted to hear Lancelot’s voice: pamper him, spoil him, obey his every whim. He wanted his moans and sighs, feel him melt under his touch. He had dressed for him, and he would play his part. 

In pursuit, he moved down the line of his body, kissing against his collar bone, his chest, his stomach, where he paused and lowered himself down to kneel before Lancelot on the bed. He noticed Lancelot propped up onto his elbows, watching, as he pushed his legs up, and made sure he kept eye contact as he placed a slow, deliberate kiss against his erection straining against his underwear. Lancelot let out a whimper, an impatient, shuddering breath, as Vane followed the shape of his cock with his lips and tongue, sucking and licking against his underwear, until Lancelot’s head fell back against the bed and he held open his legs, wider for Vane. 

“Vane…” came his voice in a whine, “Vane…”

Vane could only comply, his mouth never stopping even as the lace dried out his tongue, alternating between licking against the shape of his cock, and tasting his exposed thighs between his stockings. His scent was intoxicating here, and Vane treasured every whimper and moan that every lash of his tongue would produce. 

When Vane couldn’t take Lancelot’s voice any more – in his head, but more so, his crotch – he pushed himself up so he could retrieve a small tube from Lancelot’s bedside table, noticing that it was one of the ones he had just bought. He shuffled off his slippers as he crawled onto the bed, and Lancelot met him halfway, catching his hand in his as he rolled over onto his side.

For a moment, Vane was preoccupied as he applied lube to his fingers, leaving Lancelot free to paw at the bulge of Vane’s crotch. He tried his best to concentrate, slowly breathing in and out as he tried to not notice Lancelot pushing himself up to fiddle with his fly. In one fell swoop, he pulled the zip down, and Vane flicked his gaze up as everything dawned upon Lancelot’s face.

“Change of plans,” Lancelot said, all in one breath, as he smashed his lips against Vane’s and groped him crudely against his lacy underwear.

“Lan-chan!” Vane called, as he was toppled to the bed without even a pause. 

Vane could barely even gasp before Lancelot was tearing open his shirt and jacket, a trail of wet kisses against the swathe of his chest, all the way down to his open fly, where he looked up into his eyes and placed a slow, gentle kiss against his erection in his new knickers.

“Good boy…” Lancelot mumbled as he climbed on top of his body, a kiss before he shuffled round to face Vane’s cock and his ass was in his face. 

Vane had to sigh when his erection was finally free from his underwear, and Lancelot didn’t waste any time before he had captured it into his mouth. The warmth almost sent his mind into bliss; but Vane didn’t want to lay still, pulling aside Lancelot’s underwear so he could return the favour. He felt Lancelot’s moan hum against his cock as he pushed his finger into him, his shudder as he began to pump in and out of him, his whimper as Vane simultaneously licked against the head of his cock. Vane would have been entirely content in this position, tasting and making Lancelot shudder, when eventually, he felt the warmth of Lancelot’s mouth retreat.

“Vane…” Lancelot gasped, breathless, “Lube please.”

In a pause, Vane tossed the tube through the gap between their bodies, earning him a quick ‘thank you’ once Lancelot had it in hand. He thought he was preparing him, but he was taking an awfully long time, and as Vane tried to push down the climax Lancelot’s licking kept edging him towards, he realised that Lancelot was merely eating up the flavoured lube after he had applied it over and over.

Vane pulled away from Lancelot’s cock, and forced a pant out of his lips, “Lan-chan… Please…”

Lancelot only answered back in a giggle, finally shuffling round so he was facing Vane again. He would dearly miss the warmth of Lancelot’s legs right in front of his face, so his hands settled back onto them as Lancelot straddled across him, his fingers weaving under the straps of his suspender belt to grasp his thighs in his hands.

He watched as Lancelot positioned himself over his cock, lowering himself down in a series of gasps and whimpers. Once he had settled onto him, he pulled the bottom of his babydoll into his mouth, revealing his entire chest to him, an invite for Vane to run his hands up his exposed skin, pinch his nipples between his thumb and forefinger. It proved to him that any noise out of Lancelot’s mouth was suppressed by his own gag, even as he began to roll his hips, his moans and sighs emerging muffled. Vane watched the exertion on his face as it became harder and harder to dampen his own panting; so he knocked against his hands, and Lancelot gladly laced his fingers through his, grasping on tight as he continued to ride his cock.

“Lan-chan… Lan-chan…” Vane panted against Lancelot’s rhythm, reminding himself to breathe as Lancelot’s nails dug into his hands, as he bounced faster and faster on his cock.

Even though the sight of him was mesmerising, Lancelot presenting himself for him to see, Vane realised he was focusing on his lips, realised he wanted to taste him, hear him, feel him close. He pushed their hands together onto Lancelot’s thighs, and with a gasp, quickened his pace against Lancelot. 

“Vane!”

A sudden gasp made Lancelot drop his babydoll out of his mouth, the nylon covering his chest once more, and now that his voice was finally free to call out Vane’s name over and over and over, he didn’t stop – not until Vane couldn’t bear it any longer.

“Lan-chan,” was all Vane said when he pulled away his hands to push his ass up. 

Lancelot stared at him for a moment, his eyes wide as he watched Vane topple him against the bed in a single bound. He was staring between his legs as he watched Vane insert himself back into him, and Vane pushed his entire length into his warmth before he leaned over him.

“Vane…” Lancelot mumbled as Vane let his weight down gently onto him.

“Hold onto me,” Vane whispered, pecking him quickly on his lips, before he tucked his head against his, pulling him close as he felt him shudder. 

Only when Lancelot had obeyed his instruction, his fingers tightening against the back of Vane’s suit jacket, did Vane move. He took a deep breath, as he started up a rhythm, his length sliding back out and back in, holding Lancelot tighter as he felt him gasp. As Lancelot whimpered and whined, Vane began to pick up in speed, slamming into Lancelot over and over, as he felt sweat run down his chin, Lancelot’s legs hook around his back.

“Vane, Vane, Vane, Vane,” was all that was left of Lancelot’s voice, punctuated with his gasps and moans, barely audible above the sound of Vane’s body pounding against his.

Listening to him so close, feeling him so close, Vane was almost overwhelmed at how much he drank in Lancelot’s presence beside him. He went faster and faster, until Lancelot’s voice was nothing but screaming, and he was barely holding on, his fingers tightening against the bed sheets, the bed creaking in protest at his speed and force. 

He came to a sudden stop, deep inside Lancelot, moaning beside his ear, felt Lancelot subsequently shudder and moan, his release against his naked chest. He collapsed onto him, sticky and warm, catching his breath back as he held Lancelot tight. Lancelot was humming gently in contrast, tired moans warming Vane up as he kept his clutch on his jacket, the hold of his legs still tight around his back.

Vane pushed himself up first, musing at the sight of Lancelot, exhausted, eyes closed, placated underneath him. His hair was a mess, and Vane combed it back with his fingers to get a better look at his face, his hand sliding down to his cheek, his thumb stroking the blush that resided there. 

“I love you…” Lancelot mumbled, as he opened his eyes to stare up at him, his mind still a muddle. 

“Love you too,” Vane whispered, and he pressed a kiss against Lancelot’s lips.

They took a moment to recover in a slow, gentle kiss; until their kisses picked up in pace and Lancelot pushed himself up and onto Vane’s lap, all without breaking their contact. He pulled impatiently away at his heels, and stripped himself of his soiled babydoll, stained with his seed, and Vane realised as much as he had enjoyed the sight of Lancelot all dressed up for him, he was just as beautiful with nothing else to hide his skin. Vane laughed when Lancelot stared at how his shirt had clung onto him in sweat, only for his laughter to turn into moans when Lancelot began tasting it as he stripped him of his clothes. He was just in the middle of pulling away at his suit jacket when he stopped abruptly.

“Oh no…” Lancelot whispered. He showed him what he had found, pointing out the tear in the seams where Lancelot had gripped too hard.

“I can sew that up,” Vane said simply.

“No, I’ll get you another,” Lancelot said, in a voice that left no room for argument. 

“Lan-chan…” Vane whispered.

“You make me so happy, you know that?” Lancelot said, pausing for a moment to stare into his eyes, and then he leaned his weight forward, toppling Vane over onto the bed, “Let me spoil you.”

Lancelot’s stamina had always led them into situations like this. He’d keep Vane up all night, until he fell asleep first against Vane’s shoulder, and Vane would tuck him in and hold him until they woke. It had led to a ban on nights like these before match days, and yet the prolonged abstinence only made the wait harder, until every occasion they were able to touch grew longer and longer into the night. It was the price of being known to the world, every aspect of his life held up to scrutiny. In the privacy of his home, Lancelot and Vane indulged in each other’s presence, without fear of being found.

* * *

Somewhere in the distance, Vane thought he heard the vibration of his phone. It happened again and again, until Vane was forced to rise with a mumble, and after a moment of confused stumbling around Lancelot’s mess, he fetched his phone from his trousers’ pocket. After a quick peek to see if Lancelot was still asleep, Vane crawled back into bed beside him.

The first thing he noticed was that he had several missed calls from Carl, and then the ensuing flood of text messages filled with worry, as he tried to communicate with someone who wasn’t responding. The preview snippets advised him to quickly check online for Lancelot’s name, and Vane quietly obeyed him, even though he already knew what he’d find.

“Vane?” Lancelot murmured as he stirred.

“Oh. Sorry, Lan-chan…” Vane whispered, and he tangled his fingers through Lancelot’s hair, “Did I wake you up?”

“No… It’s fine,” Lancelot mumbled, “Is something wrong?”

Vane paused for a moment, watching the numbers climb on this particular tweet, before he passed him his phone to see for himself. Vane watched Lancelot’s face as he scrolled down Vane’s feed, his features illuminated in the pale white glow of the light of his phone.

“Ah.”

Lancelot held out his phone to him, and Vane placed it face down onto the bedside table. They didn’t say a word as Lancelot pulled him back into his arms, snuggling close together in bed. The photo of a large, blond man beside Lancelot, together outside an adult store, would have to be dealt with later.

“What should we do this time?” Vane asked quietly.

“Hard to damage control this one,” Lancelot said, hooking his leg over Vane’s, “Maybe we should stop hiding it.”

Vane furrowed his brow, “But, Lan-chan…”

Lancelot poked him where his eyebrows were knitted together, and wouldn’t cease until Vane was smiling again. He wrapped his arms around his waist and pulled himself in tight, “You’re always holding yourself back in public, aren’t you?” Lancelot whispered, staring right into Vane’s eyes.

Vane stared back, finding himself lost in the blue of Lancelot’s eyes, until he breathed in and pressed his lips onto his in a slow, chaste kiss. It wasn’t enough however, when Lancelot nibbled against his lip and Vane pulled back to nuzzle and bite at Lancelot’s neck. He could already spot a few bruises beginning to bloom, like watercolours against paper, and decided that there was no harm in simply adding more.

Lancelot giggled as Vane knocked him over onto his back, stared up at him with a smile as Vane caged his arms around his head. Then, before he could even lean back in, Lancelot stopped Vane in his tracks, clamping onto his lips with his fingers.

“Vane… As much as I want this to continue, let me say something first,” Lancelot said, before taking in a large intake of breath.

Vane watched silently as Lancelot let go of his lips, his eyes darting away for a moment as colour crept into his cheeks. When he was ready at last, he simply smiled and took Vane’s face into his hands.

“I know your distant looks. I know how you doubt yourself. But know this, Vane,” Lancelot said, “I love you. Without you here, without you reminding me where I’m from, I wouldn’t realise how far I’ve come, and how lucky I am to be here with you.”

It took more than a moment for every word to sink in, but an instant for Vane’s face to crumple, “Lan… chan…” Vane choked out, feeling himself teeter on the edge of tears.

Lancelot giggled, bringing him in closer, kissing each of his cheeks in turn, but that only made his tears fall, dotting onto Lancelot’s own face. 

“Sorry…” Vane said lamely, quickly swiping away at the sudden intrusion, but Lancelot only responded in bright laughter.

Barely a minute ago, he had been on top of Lancelot, and now he had pushed himself up to swipe up a tissue. He fiercely wiped his eyes and blew his nose as quickly as he could, but he squeaked when he felt Lancelot’s arms encircle around his waist.

“Sorry,” Vane mumbled again, but Lancelot only nuzzled against his neck.

“Don’t be,” Lancelot whispered, “You’ve really grown up, and yet you’re still that little crybaby that always followed me around. That’s exactly why I love you.”

Vane felt his face fall again, but Lancelot caught him in time, pressing his forehead against his.

“You’ll make me cry too,” Lancelot said softly, “Ever since we were children, ever since my first match as captain. You've always been by my side for as long as I can remember, Vane.”

In an instant, Vane burst into tears, and he really tried his best to catch them all with his sodden lump of tissue, but it was crumpling in his hand, and Lancelot was in between his efforts, kissing his face until his lips were wet and he had to nuzzle against his neck for a reprieve. He held him until his sobs died down, his hands running up and down his back, a barrage of kisses against his forehead, his hair, his ear. Lancelot was passing him the whole tissue box when Vane had finally calmed down, and he looked at him with reddened eyes. 

“Lan-chan…” Vane managed to choke out, “Last week… Could you tell me what I said?”

With a flourish, Lancelot kicked his legs out of the bed, a magnificent display of his fitness until Vane realised, when his heart leapt into his throat, Lancelot was pulling something out from his bedside table’s drawer. Before he could utter a single sound, Lancelot had thrown his babydoll over his face, and it blinded him for a moment, draping over him like a veil.

With bated breath, Vane lifted it off his face, only to see Lancelot down on one knee, his own box in his hand, a silver band waiting. 

“I want to marry you too.”


End file.
